Wingdinger Doolally
by Raha
Summary: Who Framed Roger Rabbit. Fourteen years have passed since Eddie Valiant saved Toontown from being wiped from the face of the earth. Now his daughter must pick up where he left off as the world begins to turn against their beloved childhood stars.
1. Hookum Skivey Sweetheart

Wingdinger Doolally

Chapter One:

Hookum-Skivey Sweetheart

* * *

**Los Angeles, California**

**1961**

Rosemary Valiant moved through the dusky tunnel that led towards Toontown at a leisurely pace, idly kicking a stone along the way and only half-listening to the cricket in her pocket soundly telling her off. This particular cricket was no ordinary bug, of course, for no insect was capable of talking quite as much as he did (and honestly, it was Romy's opinion that _no one_ was capable of talking quite as much as he did). This particular cricket was, in fact, a toon—not only that, but he was an official and certified conscience to boot, so when he wanted to chew you out, he really chewed you out. Fortunately for Romy, she'd long since learned to tune him out when she'd made up her mind not to follow his conscientious advice. This toon's name was Jiminy Cricket, and at the moment he was hopping mad.

"I can't _believe_ you're doing this!" Jiminy cried, waving his umbrella up at her from Romy's shirt pocket. "Of all the stupid things you've done today, this is the _worst_, Rosemary!"

"Oh, come on, I wouldn't say they were stupid," Romy replied, feigning a slightly wounded look. "I thought what I did to Professor Finkle was pretty clever, actually."

"What you did to that poor woman was vicious and juvenile!" Jiminy snapped. "When your father hears about this…!"

"You gonna tell him?"

"Of course not!" the cricket retorted indignantly. "I'm no tattle-tale—I'll leave that up to your principal, young lady, and I hope Eddie grounds you until Christmas!"

"Oh, that won't be much of a problem," Romy said, a slow smile curling up at the corner of her mouth. "I've already set up that thug Woodrow to take the fall for today's little...incident. He ought to get an earful when he gets home today."

"You _didn't_!" Jiminy all but shrieked, the pitch of his voice bouncing all over the walls in his frantic state. But Romy just smiled wider.

"I hope his mama thrashes him," she added impishly. Jiminy scrubbed a hand down his face in appalled disbelief. He had owed Eddie Valiant a favor for clearing Pinocchio of possession, but when he'd promised to look after the detective's daughter, he hadn't known what a hellion the seemingly polite and well-mannered girl would turn out to be. The kid was an absolute nightmare for a conscience, because she had the uncanny ability to commit devilry without feeling an ounce of guilt, no matter how much Jiminy tried to pour it on.

In Toontown it wasn't so bad, since any sort of deviant behavior was widely accepted anyway and most often than not encouraged. It was when Romy was back in the human world that things got complicated. Among her toon friends she was a half-wild demon, but back in her own world the fiendish little scoundrel turned into a sweet little lady, too guileless to be blamed and too smart to get caught in whatever mischief she'd perpetrated. The infuriating thing was that she went about these affairs with such a cheerful and innocent air that even most toons found it difficult to blame her if they found themselves on the wrong end of one of her schemes, even if they did somehow manage to find some scrap of evidence to prove her guilt, and even if they didn't most knew better anyway.

The alarming thing was that more and more the old cricket found himself secretly cheering her on even as he scolded her for whatever wickedness she got up to. However, this latest exploit of hers was just too much, and Jiminy was determined to let her know it.

"Look, Romy, aside from what you did in school, you can't _really_ be serious about going into Toontown alone," he said, trying to reason with the girl. "You know how dangerous it is_,_ you could really get hurt."

"Don't think I can handle it, do you?" Romy challenged.

"No, I don't," he replied staunchly. "It's no place for humans.

"I didn't know you were racist, Jiminy."

"Wha…? No! No, that's not what I meant," Jiminy snapped, flustered, even though he knew she was just teasing.

"Then what did you mean?" she asked sweetly, in a tone that Jiminy recognized as her most dangerous.

"I just meant it isn't safe for humans there—especially a kid," he replied doggedly.

"But I've been there before."

"With Roger!" Jiminy exploded. "Or your father, or Benny! You should _never_ go there _alone_!"

"But Roger's the one I'm going to see. Can't very well take him with me to go to see him, can I? And it's Benny's day off, I don't want to bother him. Besides, I'm not alone," Romy smiled. "You're with me."

"Oh, a lot of help I'll be," Jiminy scoffed, crossing his arms and harrumphing loudly. "I'll just push you out of the way of speeding cars and stop anvils from falling on your head, shall I?"

"You really think someone'll drop an anvil on me?" Romy asked him eagerly, her eyes lighting with excitement at the prospect. Jiminy knew she was joking again (probably), and glared up at her with his best scowl. "Come on, Jimmy, most toons like me too much to drop things on me."

"Don't call me Jimmy! I've told you!" Jiminy bristled.

"I also doubt they'd really do harm to the guy that saved the town," Romy continued nonchalantly. "That, and he's the only toon detective around that's worth his mettle."

"Speaking of which, Eddie won't be too happy with you if he ever finds out you've gone gallivanting off to Toontown, instead of staying in school."

"But they closed the school today," Romy reminded him cheerfully.

"I know, I was there!" Jiminy cried.

"Oh come now, it wasn't my fault—"

"_Yes it was_!"

"Well, what was I supposed to do? Woodrow was getting spit-wards everywhere," Romy argued, looking positively disgusted. "Of course Mrs. Finkle won't ever punish him, since his dad's their biggest benefactor. I had no choice, really."

"You got the entire school _closed down_ for a few _spit-wads_!" Jiminy screeched. "Don't you try and justify that!"

"Have you ever had to pick them out of your hair? It's _nasty_, Jiminy."

The toon was beginning to get the distinct feeling that he was just banging his head against a brick wall. Besides that, he was slightly dizzy from going around in circles with the girl, so he huffed to himself and refused to say another word. By this time, though, they had come in sight of the big, red, cartoon curtain at the end of the tunnel and Romy picked up the pace in barely contained excitement. Just a few more steps and she could leave her mundane world behind and just forget about all its tedious little problems for a while.

Just a few more steps, and the curtain swung open with a flourish and its usual cartoonish sound effect to herald the cacophony of light and song, shattering the silence and darkness of the tunnel and banishing any thoughts of school completely. Romy paused a moment, grinning gleefully and waiting for her eyes and ears to adjust to the sudden brightness and noise. Jiminy climbed up onto her shoulder, wanting to see from a better vantage point as she strolled down the dirt road, waving at familiar toons and humming along to the ridiculous merry-go-round-broke-down lyrics they were belting out.

"Don't worry so much, Jiminy," Romy chided the cricket gently. "I can handle myself here. Besides, you'll get more wrinkles."

"_More_ wrinkles?" Jiminy repeated. "Well! That is the absolute last cotton-pickin' straw!" With that he jumped off her shoulder and strode off in high dudgeon. "From now on, you're on your own! Wrinkles, indeed!"

Romy watched the huffy toon storm off through the grass in amusement, chuckling (slightly fiendishly) to herself, before moving off down the road. Along the way she was greeted by a multitude of toons—three chattering hummingbirds buzzed around her head, B'rer Rabbit called out a passing "hallo!" to which she politely replied, and Jerry Mouse paused just long enough to land a kiss on her cheek before he zipped off again, with Tom Cat hot on his heels.

It had been overcast back on the other side of the tunnel, but here in Toontown it was sunny as always; in fact the sun was singing at the tops of its lungs and bouncing like a five year old in a candy store, merrily casting its light in every nook and cranny within reach, and beaming so brightly it had donned a pair of shades.

Romy stuck her hands in her pockets, smiling at the trees and flowers and watching a plethora of mostly barnyard animals chase each other across the country-side, before the singing suddenly stopped and the scene abruptly changed. Sour-faced buildings popped out of the ground like ten-story daisies, a few clouds of city smog scuttled into the sky and jockeyed with the sun for the best spots to see everything, and the little dirt road expanded into an asphalt death-trap.

Romy skipped blithely to the side as a car zoomed down the street, screaming rude things at her as it passed, and then spun again as a family of pigs stampeded down the side-walk.

"S'cuse me, toots," the Big Bad Wolf said as he pushed by her, patting her distractedly on the head before hurrying on. She caught a glimpse of all his slavering white teeth as he grinned eagerly, his hungry yellow eyes locked on the pigs. Romy smiled as she continued on her way towards Roger's flat, on the look out for the shadows of falling objects (it was always too late if you looked up) and trying to straighten out her ruffled hair. Roger lived further into town, a nice and roomy penthouse suite he'd rented with his wife Jessica, up on the gazillionth floor of one of the impossibly high sky-scrapers—literally; maintenance had to add a fresh coat every year because the building kept rubbing all the paint off.

Fortunately it wasn't that long of a walk. If it liked you, Toontown tended to rearrange things so that you'd get to where you were going a lot faster than usual. But it was such a subtle thing that Romy doubted anyone besides herself had even noticed the strange quirk—after all, there were so many other quirks to notice, that they tended to bury each other in so much oddity that after a while they came out looking normal. Almost. The only reason she had figured out this particular habit was because it only took her about five minutes to reach Roger's home, whereas it took Baby Herman nearly thirty to go the same distance, even if he was in a car. He'd giving up racing her long ago, mystified how she could possibly travel so fast, and convinced that she'd found some sort of short-cut. She hadn't told him, of course, part of her enjoying her little secret and his frustration (the coins she won from their bets weren't too bad, either), but also because she doubted even a toon would believe that a city could actually bend time and space just to make things convenient for you.

So it was that she ducked through an old alley, startling a few trash-diving cats, and stood before Roger's building, somewhere in the middle of town. She pushed through the revolving glass door and passed by the receptionist desk, nodding absently to the clerk before she recognized the toon behind the counter.

"Grumpy!"

The dwarf looked up from the papers he'd been half-heartedly working on, his expression one of bored resignation, but it turned downright ornery when he spotted Romy leaning on the counter.

"Yeah, whaddya want?" he asked gruffly.

"What are you doing?" Romy asked curiously, ignoring his attitude. She was familiar with most of the Disney crew, and knew he was a grouch to pretty much everyone—except Snow White, of course.

"Whatsit look like I'm doin'?" Grumpy grumped, waving his hand at the papers scattered across his desk.

"Yes, I can see _that_," Romy replied dismissively. "I meant, why are you working here? What happened to your wood-working business? I thought you were doing really well."

"Whatsit ta you?" Grumpy retorted.

"Oh, come on, don't be like that," Romy replied, smiling as sweetly as she could. "I'm really concerned here. You guys're okay, right?"

The dwarf scowled and stubbornly looked away for a moment, and Romy's brows knit together, her smile fading. But before she could think of something to say, there was a crash from the back room, and a cry "Help! Oh! Help!"

She exchanged a look with Grumpy before following him through the Employees Only door, and recognized another dwarf, Doc, squished beneath a filing cabinet. It looked like he'd opened the two top drawers at once, unbalanced the thing, and brought it all tumbling down on his head. Both drawers had dumped nearly half their contents onto the floor; folders, loose papers, and about a hundred little sticky-notes were scattered everywhere.

"Ya clumsy oaf!" Grumpy cried. "Lookit this mess!"

"Never mind the mess!" Doc gasped. "Get this thing off me!"

Romy bent and helped Grumpy pull the cabinet upright, pulling Doc to his feet while the crotchety old dwarf set it against the wall. It was a good thing she'd come alone along when she had—it was heavy enough with the two of them, and she doubted Grumpy could have lifted it on his own, even as strong as he was.

"Oh, gracious goodness—er, I mean, goodness gracious—thank you, my dear, I don't know how long I would've been under there if you hadn't helped us out," Doc smiled, cleaning his spectacles and smoothing out his clothes. "Why, we're just—"

"Mad as hornets!" Grumpy interrupted rudely.

"Mad as hornets!" Doc repeated, before throwing his hands up in exasperation. "No! Stop doing that! I mean, we're sad as crumpets—no, we're glad as corsets—oh, now look what you've done!" he cried, turning to glare accusingly at Grumpy. "What was I _saying_?"

"You were tellin' her ta git out!" Grumpy snapped. "An' quit stickin' her big nose in where it don't belong!"

"Actually, I think you were trying to thank me for saving you from a gruesome fate," Romy interjected politely. "And you're very welcome."

"Why, yes! Yes, thank you!" Doc exclaimed happily. "Don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come along, miss…" he squinted at her for a moment, as if trying to solve a puzzle, before exclaiming, "Now where did I put my grass—er, glasses? I know they were here somewhere…"

"They're in you're hand, Doc," Romy grinned.

"Why, so they are! Splendid, splendid!" He adjusted his specs and peered at her before his face lit up with recognition. "Why, if it isn't Eddie's little girl!"

"At your service," Romy said, giving a little bow.

"Figures," Grumpy muttered. "Dad's a meddlesome pest, too."

"Oh, don't mind that old goat," Doc huffed. "He's been just impassib—improb—_impossible_ since…" The dwarf trailed off, and dropped his eyes to stare dejectedly at the floor.

"Did something happen?" Romy asked quietly, bending to help them gather up the scattered folders.

"Well, no…yes…I don't know," Doc replied, sighing heavily. "Work's been a little slow lately..."

"What about the diamond mines?"

"Oh, that just gives us something to do," Doc said. "Toon jewels don't really sell for very much, I'm afraid. We're ducky—I mean, lucky to have a job at all, the way things have been going…"

"Going…?" Romy prompted.

"Well, you know, there are so many of us—toons, I mean—it's hard to get work in town," he continued. "'Specially if you're not in show business anymore."

"But what happened to your shop?" Romy asked.

Grumpy and Doc looked at one another.

"Well…" Doc hedged, looking a little uncomfortable, before Grumpy cut him off.

"Humans won't buy anything anymore. We had to close it down," he said brusquely, crossed his arms over his chest and positively glared. Grumpy being ill-tempered wasn't anything new, but the bitter resentment in his voice took her by surprise.

"Now, don't you get mad at her!" Doc scolded him. "It's not her fault!"

Romy regarded the dwarf with knitted brows and her mouth pressed into a thin line, not liking what she's heard at all. She got the feeling there was something more to it than just bad business. Grumpy scowled for a moment longer, but then he exhaled heavily through his nose and looked away.

"Guess yer right," he said tetchily, but the usual bite in his voice was gone. She suspected that as close to an apology as she would get. His temper hadn't really been directed at her anyway, he was just very upset--she didn't blame him.

"I'm sure it'll work out somehow," she tried reassuring him, and smiled tentatively. "I gotta get going, though. It was nice seeing you again."

"Oh, yes, it was such pleasure," Doc replied, shaking off his earlier gloom and affecting his usual cheerful manner.

"Yeah. _Real_ pleasure," Grumpy said, with a roll of his eyes.

"I'll come see you again. Bye, Grumpy," she added playfully, and chuckled quietly when he _Hmph'd_ and turned his nose up at her. She left the two and headed towards the elevator, where a pile of assorted luggage greeted her like a little of puppies. They capered happily around her ankles, wagging their handles, and zipping their zippers or snapping their snaps since most of them weren't drawn with any mouths. She hit the up button ("Ouch! Not so hard!" "Sorry!") and bent to pet the nearest handbag, before there was a whistling sound, like a falling missile, followed by a tremendous _BOOM! _that shook the building and threw her to the floor. Romy sat up, beaming hugely, just as the elevator doors opened and there was Droopy, in his red bell-hop uniform, looking dead-pan and flaccid as always.

"Hello, Romy," he said in a flat monotone. "Going up?"

"Yup. Hi, Droopy," Romy greeted him cheerfully and hopped down into the elevator, minding the step, and braced herself against the wall. "Sounds like you got some new rockets."

"Yes, I did," Droopy replied dully as he closed the doors. "Thank you for noticing."

"You're welcome," Romy replied, then clenched her teeth together (to keep from biting her tongue off, of course), still grinning in gleeful anticipation.

"Hold on, miss," Droopy intoned, gripped the handle that would launch them four-hundred-and-fifty stories in about as many seconds, and pulled. The elevator shot up like a bullet from a gun. The first few times, Romy had been flattened to the floor like a pancake, and then hurled into the ceiling when the elevator came to a sudden halt a few heart-stopping seconds later. Still, that hadn't stopped her from riding it up and down for nearly half an hour when she'd first discovered it, chatting amicably with the baggy-eyed toon and thoroughly enjoying herself. Roger had gotten worried when she hadn't shown up at the normal time, and come to look for her, only to find her lying flat on her back in the middle of the floor, surrounded by bemused-looking toons, and laughing her head off, much to Droopy's amusement—though you couldn't tell by looking at him.

But she'd ridden the thing so many times now, was so used to it that bracing now seemed like second nature, that she could stay just as stationary as Droopy could. However, Romy still felt like she'd left her stomach back on ground level, only to have it smack into her a moment later and sit quivering with the rest of insides once they'd reached the very tippy-top floor. The doors opened and she stepped out, not even shaking, and turned to wave at the diminutive dog.

"See you later."

"Have a good day, miss," he said drearily—but Renry caught the little smile before the doors slammed shut again and Droopy disappeared from sight with a blast of noise. Romy stood in the hall for a moment, the adrenaline rush quickly fading, and she turned towards Roger's door with a sobering expression. The look of Grumpy's face was bothersome—it had never occurred to her that a toon could have the sort of mundane hardships humans did, like making money or a getting job. They were always so happy and care-free, the good ones anyway, that it was almost absurd to Romy to think they might worry about anything. And the fact that humans were somehow making it worse was upsetting, but she couldn't understand why anyone wouldn't want them around.

She was biased, of course, having grown up with toons all her life. Roger and Jessica were like her second parents, and not a day had gone by when they hadn't introduced her to some new face whilst on some crazy adventure or at some wild party. In fact, so many of her friends were toons that her mother, Delores, worried sometimes about her sanity and urged her to make some human companions as well. Romy had obliged that request, reluctantly, if only to stop the nagging, but the two girls she had managed to befriend were really only interested in shopping and talking about boys.

Now, Romy liked shopping and talking about boys just as much as any girl—but she had other interests, too. Interests like hiding explosive lemon-meringue pies in her teacher's desk, or jumping off the highest sky-scraper in town with her toon buddies and playing chicken to see which one of them would open their parachute first, or just gallivanting around Toontown with Benny the Cab. In fact, her parents would have probably banned her to her room for the rest of eternity if they knew all the perilous stuff she got up to. Well, it wasn't _all_ life-threatening. Sometimes she read a book.

But truthfully, Romy knew they worried only because they didn't understand all the rules. Not even her dad knew half the stuff Romy knew, and he'd spent almost as much time there as she did. Rules like, "If you don't panic after walking off a cliff you won't fall" or "You can avoid falling objects by moving their shadow away" or "Dynamite is only trying to be funny and will not explode in your face if you just ignore it". Normal rules and laws (like gravity and whatnot) were thrown out the window, and as long as she was within the limits of Toontown, she could do pretty much anything.

Even then, she knew the city could be treacherous—people had gotten killed there, after all, like her Uncle Teddy. His murderer had dropped a piano on his head from fifteen stories, but the thing was, it had been a _real_ piano. Had it been a toon piano, her father and uncle would have walked away uncomfortably flattened, but otherwise completely unharmed. That was the difference. Toontown itself was like one giant bouncy castle—it was only when you brought in something like a bowling ball that it got dangerous. For the rest, as long as you weren't stupid, you were perfectly safe.

"ROMY!!!"

Romy looked up in time to see a fluffy red-and-white cannon ball come barreling towards her at the speed of sound before it slammed into her with enough force to send her toppling to the floor, locked its arms around her waist in a crushing bear-hug, and started firing questions off like a machine gun.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in school? What happened? Does Eddie know you're here? Are you skipping? Have you—"

"Roger, do you expect me to answer these questions anytime soon, or should I just let you ramble some more?" Romy asked curiously, dazed, but happy to see him. Honestly, it was hard to be anything _but_ happy when Roger was around. For her, at any rate. Eddie, who deep down really cared about the floppy-eared rabbit, wasn't always able to tolerate some of his antics without blowing a gasket. But Romy, being a kid and having grown up with him all her life, found the toon quite irresistible. He was just too adorable with his big blue eyes and over-large feet, and had one of the sweetest dispositions in Toontown.

"I guess some answers would be okay," Roger replied honestly, the sarcasm just missing the tips of his ears as it whizzed over his head. He helped her to her feet and followed as she made her way into the apartment, torn between beaming like Christmas had come early, or looking stern and disappointed because he still didn't know what had brought her there on a school day and wasn't sure how he should react.

It was a homey little place, with white-and-yellow-striped wall paper, plush ivory carpeting, squat little chairs and a floral sofa. A rabbit-eared TV sat inside a wooden entertainment center, into which had been carved all manner of woodsy little creatures and designs--some of the dwarfs work, obviously. In the corner, near the window that looked out over the park, was a white grand piano. The bathroom and two bedrooms (one of which was hers) were through an arched doorway and down the hall. Pictures of friends and family, a lot of them celebrities, adorned the walls: Baby Herman and Benny, Bugs Bunny, Goofy, Rabbit and Eeyore, Woody Woodpecker, Bullwinkle, Popeye. The kitchen was large and welcoming, tiled in green and white linoleum, with green faux-marble counter tops covered in tacky barnyard-animal containers, oven-mitts, and other various appliances. A card table had been set up in the middle of the living room, and sitting in one of the fold out chairs, puffing on a cigar and swirling what looked like a mango-tini, was José Carioca.

The green parrot had appeared in a few of Disney's cultural flicks, briefly in _Saludos Amigos_, and had starred alongside Donald Duck in _The Three Caballeros_, but he was more popular in Latin America than he was in the States. Romy hadn't particularly liked either movie--she was more of a Princess girl--but she adored José. He was a shameless womanizer, but he went about it with such a guileless charm that it was hard to condemn him. He wore only a white, button-up shirt and light yellow gloves. His jacket of the same shade was slung over the back of his chair, along with his little black umbrella. Romy hadn't seen him for months, as he spent most of the year in Rio de Jeniero, but since he and Roger were old buddies he'd come to visit every summer.

José tipped his black-banded yellow duster, the brim of it falling rakishly over one eye, and he grinned wide.

"_Hola, Senõrita_!" he waved happily, and was suddenly standing next to her, kissing her hand playfully and talking a mile a minute in Spanish. She didn't catch a word of it, but then he finished with a jaunty, "Or, how they say in your country, 'How's tricks, sweetheart?'"

"Joe!" Romy cried, sweeping the toon up into a hug, one he happily returned.

"_Eijole_, you get bigger every year!"

"Ohmygosh, I haven't seen you in forever! What are you doing so far from Brazil? Roger, when were you going to tell me he was here?" This last question was more of a demand, and she turned accusing eyes on the rabbit, still holding José like an over-sized stuffed animal.

"Puh-p-p-p-please, he only got in here this morning, and you were still at school!" Roger defended himself. "Actually, shouldn't you still be there?" He crossed his arms and tried to look stern. Romy set José down and tried not to laugh.

"I'm not skipping," she assured him, grinning at the look of relief that crossed his face—he really had a hard time being upset with her, for any reason. It just wasn't in his nature. "There was a bit of a problem with the plumbing after I blew up a toilet, so now the whole place is flooded. They've closed shop for the next few days--good thing, too, now I get to spend more time with Joe! How long are you in town for, anyway?

"Oh, just until the day after tomorrow..." José explained, and then trailed off as what she'd said started sinking in. She'd mentioned it so nonchalantly, and moved on so smoothly he'd almost missed it. Roger hadn't even caught on yet. "_Espera un momento_--what was that about a toilet?"

Romy dropped carelessly into a chair, and slung her pack over the back rest. "I blew one up," she replied coolly.

"Wait, you what?" Roger squeaked. "You blew up a toilet? You flooded the school?!"

Romy shrugged with mock-carelessness, her eyes dancing as she watched Roger's reaction. "Yeah. It's no big deal, though." José slid into the chair next to her, a smile tugging at the corner of his beak--he knew when he was about to hear something interesting, and this sounded like it was going to be fun. Roger, however, looked positively horrified.

"Rosemary! What if your dad finds out! Jeepers, you could get in so much trouble! And the schooll! What are they gonna do--"

"Relax, Rodge," Romy laughed. "No one even knows I did it. You remember Matthew Woodrow, right?"

Roger paused and made a face, nodding.

"Who is this Woodrow fellah?" José wanted to know.

"Just some bully--he used to pick on me last year before he got into some horrible accident and broke his legs," Romy explained offhandedly, and then quickly continued with "I didn't do it!" when José started looking suspicious. She never did find out who had cut the brakes on Woodrow's bike after she'd come home with a black eye, but she could take a guess; Baby Herman had looked mighty pleased with himself when she'd reported what had happened to the boy. Needless to say, Woodrow never touched her again after that.

"Anyway, he was bullying Jiminy yesterday, so I got one of those toon-TNTs and convinced it that exploding when Woodrow was on the John would be the funniest thing ever," she explained, her green eyes lighting up devilishly. "Then it was just a matter of planting a bunch of Acme dynamite in his back-pack so he'd take the fall. The other kids don't even think he's cool for doing it, they just think he's an idiot for blowing himself up--that and it's kinda hard to look cool when you're soaked with toilet water." The two toons winced at that. "He's been suspended for two weeks--he's _so _mad!" Romy snickered gleefully. "He knows it was me, but he can't prove a thing."

By this time Roger's jaw had dropped onto the table and he stared at Romy in a stunned and speechless sort of way. José was trying not to laugh, and failing.

"_Mieja_, you are--how you say--diabolical," he said, shaking his head, and looking rather impressed with her. "You haven't changed a bit!"

"Thank you, thank you," Romy chuckled.

"Come on, _amigo,_ you got to admit, that's pretty funny," José grinned, poking Roger in the ribs.

"Well, yeah, but not outside Toontown!" Roger protested. "Romy, you can't just go around blowing up stuff whenever someone annoys you!"

"Not even if it was for a just cause?" Romy asked.

"I thought you didn't like Jiminy," Roger pointed out.

"Who said that?" Romy asked.

"_...You _did."

"What? I never said that," Romy denied, waving her hand dismissively and Roger rolled his eyes. "I like him just fine--he's the most annoying little nag ever, but he means well. I just can't resist messing with him. That's probably where you got confused."

"Uh-huh. Sure. Right," Roger said dubiously.

"Anyway, don't tell Jiminy," Romy went on. "He was having way too much fun chewing me out. If he found out I caused all that trouble because of him, he'd be wallowing in guilt for days. Besides, it's not like anyone got hurt, and Woodrow's no worse for wear, other than the smell. You're not gonna snitch on me, are ya?"

"I might," Roger sniffed, turning away and crossing his arms self-righteously. Romy rolled her eyes in good nature and pulled her backpack into her lap. To anyone else it looked like your average school bag...and that's exactly what it was. The only difference was that Romy had sewn your average gag-bag inside. It had been a Christmas present from Roger, a small, brown, nondescript little satchel that was capable of holding anything up to the size and approximate weight of a one-ton anvil. She could carry all her books, her lunch, school supplies, several sticks of dynamite, a punching-mallet, a bowling ball, some portable holes, and a number of other useful things without any trouble at all. The best part was, if anyone besides her happened to look inside, all they'd see were her books, a bit of cookie, and some lint.

Of course, it wasn't nearly as convenient as a toon's hammer-space--the hidden nothing-pocket that existed behind anything within reach and could endlessly produce just about anything you needed. Her gag-bag was nice for carrying things, but it had a limit, and she couldn't just pull out whatever she wanted; she had to put it in, first.

However, it was very good at keeping food fresh, and from this bag Romy pulled a small, frosted carrot cake on a little pink plate--perfectly un-squished, even though it had been bouncing around in her bag with all the other junk for most of the morning. She set it down in front of Roger and smirked triumphantly.

"Would a bribe help my cause?" she asked archly. Roger eyed the cake, his mouth watering.

"...Maybe," he said in a small voice, his resolve quickly crumbling.

"I made it all by myself," Romy added to sweeten the deal, and dangled a fork a few inches from his twitching pink nose. "Just for you." Roger managed to resist for about another tenth of a second before he snatched it from her hand and dug in with a gusto.

"What, none for me?" José wanted to know, hungrily watching Roger.

"I didn't know you were in town, otherwise I would have made you something," Romy said. "Tell ya what, you like empanadas?"

The parrot's eyeslit up and he smiled happily. "_Si, muchísimo!_"

"Great, I'll make you some later then."

"_Gracias!_"

"I just needed the cake to make sure Roger wouldn't tattle on me--"

"I wouldn't have really tattled," Roger interrupted through a mouth full of cake.

"--since I can't flat out lie to him," Romy continued blithely. "I mean, he swallows pretty much everything I tell him, so it's no fun at all."

"Hey!"

"What about your papa?" José asked. "He's a detective, no? He hasn't got you figured out?"

"Of course he has," Romy laughed. "But that makes him a lot more entertaining to fool--I gotta keep the old man on his toes, after all."

"You're gonna get yourself in real trouble, one of these days," Roger said in affectionate disapproval as he picked the last few crumbs off his plate and licked his fork clean of icing.

"Sure, sure," Romy said flippantly, making Roger sigh, and picked up the deck of playing cards. "So, anyone up for some canasta?"

_To Be Continued..._

_

* * *

_

**Ishkabibble: **A slang term used to dismiss something as trivial, i.e. Author's Notes.

Guess what? I'm back! And I brought another plot-bunny! This one's been in my garden for about a year now--I've been chasing it away from the carrots, but it was just so cute, I finally gave in and brought it to live in the hutch. Sorry, but all the others escaped. We'll see how long this one sticks around before it, too, hops off into the sunset. Given my track record, I'm not even going to promise I might actually finish this one. We'll see.

So, this one was inspired from a number of things. Namely, of course, _Who Framed Roger Rabbit._ I have decided that this is my favorite movie all time. But also, from reading two very good Animaniacsfanfics, the first being _Bootleg Sunrise_ by The Island Hopper, and the second being _The Burbank Confession_ by KitchenSink. If you're looking for a good toon fic, I'd definitely recommend those.

This one also has a shameless Mary Sue, but hopefully she's interesting enough that you won't hate her. I haven't seen any stories with Eddie's kids, so I decided to try my hand. I'm going to be bringing in a lot of my favorite characters, so if you see someone you recognize, this is my official disclaimer:

I OWN NOTHING!

That's all for now, and I hope you thoroughly enjoy _Wingdinger Doolally!_

Raha


	2. Cardshark Baby

Wingdinger Doolally  
Chapter Two:  
Cardshark Baby

Warning! Sappy fluff ahead!

* * *

**1952**

_  
"Okay, kid, I admit, ya got a pretty good poker face," Baby Herman said, rolling the stogy in his mouth and expertly flipping a few cards in his pudgy hands. The four year old girl sitting across the table grinned at him over her hand._

_"But ya gotta be able ta tell when someone's lyin' to ya," Herman went on. "It's like I been tellin' ya, dere's always a tell. Take Roger; he always shuffles his cards whenever he's got a good hand."_

_Romy nodded, looking thoughtful. "An' he dwops his eawrs if it's bad, wight?"_

_Baby Herman paused, looking at Romy in surprise, before he let out a bark of laughter. "Ya catch on quick, squirt!"_

_Roger scowled at the baby, his bottom lip sticking out in a pout and his eyes lidded. He dropped his cards on the table and turned to grin at Romy._

_"Hey, you wanna watch some cartoons now?"_

_Baby Herman had been diligently teaching her how to cheat all morning, and she'd just managed to wipe the floor with him at Go Fish. Herman sat back in his high seat, looking pleased as punch with himself and his favorite pupil. However, Roger was bound and determined that the amoral toon wouldn't completely corrupt her by the time she was ten, and made sure to balance her life with as many wholesome things as possible._

_Romy hopped down from her chair, her chestnut curls bouncing as she scampered over to him, and hugged the rabbit around the waist._

_"Which cawrtoons, Wo--Roger?" she asked, trying to pronunciate correctly, but she still had trouble with her R's. It annoyed her to no end, but Roger found it absolutely adorable. "Mickey Mouse? Donald Duck?"_

_"Aw, enough with dose old saps," Herman snorted derisively. "Why dont'cha show 'er somethin' enertainin' fer once? Put on some o' yer cartoons, Rodge."_

_Romy looked up at Roger with wide eyes and gave him an eager, pleading look he'd never once been capable of turning down._

_"Gee, I dunno," he hesitated, pulling at one of his ears._

_"Never seen those befowre," she said, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet. "Please, Woger?"_

_Roger didn't think she'd ever seen one of the more violent cartoons, but he knew kids her age that watched them all the time, and they were perfectly fine. Besides, it was only make-believe, and the kid was smart enough the tell the difference. What was the harm?_

_"Well...Okay. I guess _Tummy Trouble _wouldn't be too bad..._" _He dropped her onto the couch where she bounced, giggling, and opened up his personal collection of movies, sitcoms and cartoons. Romy could have spent hours watching these, because aside from the cartoons made in the studios, such as Maroon Cartoons, Warner Brothers, and Disney, there were a whole plethora of flicks made entirely by toons, for toons. Naturally there were comedies and such, but they were just as capable of producing a drama, horror, love-story, or tragedy--some of them even more heart-stirring than their human counterparts. Most of it never reached human audiences, particularly the more serious films, but there were a few that made it. _Cats Don't Dance_ had been such a huge hit with toon audiences, that the human studios had eventually decided to pick it up, though a lot of the political commentary had been lost._

_Roger pulled down his own videos, sifting through them until he found the one he was looking for and popped it into the VCR. Romy immediately plopped herself in his lap when he climbed up on the couch to join her. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin atop her head as the credits rolled. Romy had seen Baby Herman in other flicks before, so she was already familiar with his cutesy-baby act--however the drastic contrast between that and his usual crass self never failed to amuse her. she laughed at Roger's over exaggerated freak-out when Herman swallowed a rattle, and then later at his over-dramatic entrance into Herman's hospital room. Somehow, the rattle had ended up in Roger, and the doctor had confused him for the patient when he'd found the bunny dancing the cha-cha to the rhythmic _shakka-shakka _in his own belly. _

_They'd immediately strapped Roger to a gurney and rushed him to the emergency room_, _where a surgeon nearly sliced him open with a chainsaw before lunch was called and they all rushed out of the room, leaving Roger alone. Jessica made a short cameo, Herman had confused the radiology equipment for a giant bottle, then nearly cut Roger in have with the surgical laser. It was around the time when Roger was blasted down the hall and into a random pile of explosive oxygen tanks that Romy stopped laughing. Roger didn't notice at first, since Herman was clutching his sides and nearly bawling his lungs out. There was a reason, of course, why cartoons ran for only about six or seven minutes--any longer and any toon watching ran the risk of laughing themselves to death._

_But Romy had gone absolutely still, her eyes fixed to the television and her hands slowly fisting in Roger's baggy red overalls. He glanced down at her in confusion, and after a moment even Herman noticed the sudden change in atmosphere. The both of them had been created to make people laugh, and that meant they also knew when someone needed to, so it wasn;t hard to tell that she was getting very upset. Roger had just been crushed by an elevator on screen when Romy suddenly turned, buried her face in his chest, and said in a quiet voice, "Turn it off."_

_He and Herman exchanged a bewildered look--they'd never gotten that kind of reaction before. Roger quickly reached over and grabbed the remote, flicked the TV off, and leaned back to try and get a better look at the girl's face._

_"Romy, what's wrong?"_

_"Don' wanna see you get huwrt..." Romy muttered thickly. "Put on somefing else."_

_Roger sat back in surprise, trying to come up with something to say, and found that he had no idea what. His cartoons usually had kids practically laughing their heads off, not nearly crying their eyes out. Then again, no kid knew or loved him like Romy did. She was so bright, he sometimes forgot she was little more than a toddler. She didn't understand how different the two of them really were, that things like falling refrigerators and exploding pianos couldn't really phase him. But, bless her little heart, no one had ever worried about him like that. Roger's heart melted on the spot and a warm, dopey smile spread across his face._

_"Aw, shucks," he said, hugging her to him and ruffling her hair. "Kid, that's all just pretend. It's not real."_

_"It doesn't huwrt at all?" Romy asked, pointing at the screen. Roger shook his head, his ears flapping from side to side._

_"Nope!"_

_Romy narrowed her eyes at him, searching his expression for any hint of a cover-up or a lie._

_"You pwomise?" she asked finally._

_"Would I lie to you?" Roger replied cheekily._

_"...Wanna see youwr hands."_

_"Sure, sure," Roger laughed, holding up both hands. "See? My fingers aren't crossed. I p-p-p-promise it doesn't hurt at all. Happy, you susp-p-p-picious thing?"_

_Romy crossed her chubby arms and regarded him so seriously Roger nearly laughed out loud. Her eyes cut towards Herman, who flipped up the cigar in his mouth and grinned._

_"It's true, kiddo."_

_"Okay," she said finally. "But I still don' wanna watch it."_

_"Alright, we'll just watch something else then," Roger smiled, and breathed a sigh of relief when Romy settled back again, her good mood finally returning. He exchanged a look with Herman, who discreetly wiped the sweat from his brow. Roger was just glad he had fur. He hadn't been sure he could have pulled off the lie, but it would have only upset Romy more if she knew the truth. And Roger was determined to make Romy as happy as possible, for as long as she lived._

**Present Day**

"Dad, I really think you're over-reacting here," Romy sighed, holding the phone in one hand and her cards in the other. Jessica had returned from shopping with Benny and Baby Herman in tow. The babyish toon had tagged along as a favor to the volumptuous woman--she was less likely to get approached by amorous strangers if she had a baby with her. It didn't deter some of the more dogged toons, but they quickly left her alone when Herman suddenly dropped his facade and snapped at them (literally).

To someone who wasn't completely used to it, the sight of a buggy, a bunny, a baby, a bird, and a bombshell all playing Texas Hold 'Em was rather a strange sight. Romy, of course, hardly batted an eye but the uniqueness of her friends was never lost on her. They'd been bantering back and forth as they moved through canasta, then poker, and black-jack; but all conversation had stopped when Eddie had called to scream at her about the toilet. He'd just gotten back from working a case, and apparently her little excursion had made the news. She didn't seem all that concerned, and waited patiently for an opening in the on-going rant, the assorted toons listening with various expressions of amusement. Jessica was dealer, and they placed their bets as she laid the first card--a jack of spades--face-up on the table.

"Oh, honestly," Romy huffed. "Did you ever stop to think, for two seconds, that it might not have been me?"

_"I **know **it was you!"_ Eddie cried from the other end. _"It was Acme dynamite--and I can't **believe **you set up that boy to take the fall, don't even try to deny that!"_

Romy casually threw in a couple chips. "Well, sure, it was Acme dynamite, but I'm not the only one in world that can get a hold of that stuff. You can't simply _assume_ it was me, just because of that. Don't you trust me at all?"

_"Oh..." _Eddie said, uncertainly. "_So, you mean it wasn't you?"_

"Come on, who else would do something like that?" Romy snorted, laughing. "Of _course _it was me." Herman made a strangled choking sound, and Romy realized he was sniggering to himself.

_"Rosemary, you just said_--!"

"Hey, all I said was not to go off half-cocked before you know for sure whether I did something or not," Romy interjected smoothly. "I never said I wasn't responsible."

_"You are **not** helping your case one bit, young lady," _Eddie growled. _"Just when did you plan on telling me?"_

"Well, I was kinda hoping you wouldn't find out," she answered, wholly unrepentant. Jessica turned over the next card, a ten of clubs, her mouth curling in a small smile.

_"Rosemary Theodore Valiant..."_

"I'm sorry, I was joking, honestly," she said quickly, waving her hand in a placating gesture. "But I refuse to apologize for what I did. Woodrow had it coming--I was completely justified."

_"I don't care how much you think he deserved it!" _Eddie exploded. _"You **cannot **blow someone up just to teach them a lesson, do you hear me? You are going straight back to that school tomorrow and you're going to explain what really happened! Then you're going to apologize to that boy--"_

"That's the thug that bullied me last year," Romy reminded him lightly, but there was a sharp and artful cunning in her eyes as they swept across the poker-faces around her, looking for any crack, any slip-up the blasé comment might have caused. Roger's ears dipped a little, but Benny, Herman, and Jose remained staunchly blank. Her gaze turned positively fiendish as she drummed her fingers softly on the table, tapping out an incomplete shave-and-a-hair-cut tattoo; a joking attempt to further throw them off. Herman gave her a challenging glare and finished it with a quick two-bits double-tap. "You remember him, right?" she asked archly.

_"...Yeah,"_ Eddie muttered grudgingly, aware he was being manipulated and unable to do anything about it. But he certainly couldn't make her come clean now, not when he hated the boy even more than she did. No one messed with his little girl. _"I didn't know it was that kid."_

"Uh-huh, same one," Romy said, a wily grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Besides, they've suspended Woodrow for two weeks. If I go back and tell them not only am I the one responsible, but I framed someone else for it, they'll probably punish me for even longer. You don't _really _want me to miss all that school, do you? Not with finals coming up?"

There was an even longer silence this time. _"...No,"_ Eddie said finally, and the hidden grin spread across her face in devilish triumph. Roger shook his head, but Herman and Benny were snickering quietly. "Smooth," Jose mouthed. Jessica daintily turned over another card to reveal another ten, this time a club, and Romy glanced speculatively down at the two in her hand. More chips went into the pot. Ante up.  
_  
"Alright. I won't make you tell the school,"_ Eddie sighed, sounding exhausted already. _"But you're still grounded."_

"What?' Romy cried. "Come on, that's hardly fair. He was tormenting Jiminy yesterday, and the teacher wouldn't even do anything about it! I almost got sent to detention when I tried to stop him. I had to do _something_, or that neanderthal wouldn't have gotten off scott free_."_  
_  
"You got sent to **detention**? You never told me--"_

"Almost, dad. I _almost_ got detention, but I turned on the water works and they let me go with a warning," she smirked, examining her nails and smugly buffing them across her chest. Benny snorted out loud as another card--an eight of hearts--revealed itself. "And speaking of your little spy, would you please tell him to stop following me?"

_"Romy, we've already had this discussion--"_

"Well, I want to have it again," she replied snottily. "He nearly got stomped yesterday. If he keeps coming to school with me, they're gonna do something eventually that'll _really_ hurt him. I can't do _anything_ if I have to constantly watch out for him."

_"That's funny,"_ Eddie replied with rueful sarcasm. _"**He's** supposed to be watching out for **you**. You know, keep you out of trouble?"_

"Sure," Romy snorted. "Good luck with that."

_"Could you at least **try **and behave?" _

"Where's the fun in that?" she laughed. Jessica flipped over the last card to reveal a king of spades. Romy paused, considering the cards in her hand, before she gave a sly smile and deliberately pushed her entire pile of chips into the center. Benny whistled, and shot her a judicious, calculating look, wondering if she was bluffing or not. Herman decided she was, and with a confident grin, shoved in the rest of his chips as well. The other two followed suit, Jose with his usual debonair self-assurance, but Roger didn't look like he expected to win. It seemed he was too engrossed in her conversation to really care all that much, though.

Meanwhile, Eddie was making exasperated noises on the other end of line. Romy could almost see him scrubbing a hand down his face and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Come on, dad," she tried cajoling him. "I'm the top of my class, I've never gotten in any trouble (as far as anyone knows), and I was just sticking up for a friend when no one else would have. How is punishing me for that fair? You're a detective, for crying out loud, I thought you _liked _justice."

_"...You're sure no one else knows it was you?"_ Eddie finally said, wearily.

"Positive," Romy replied firmly, knowing she was in the clear.

_"Okay,"_ her father said. _"Come home before it gets dark, your mom's gonna start dinner here in a sec."_

"Right, see you later," Romy replied and released the phone, which chirped at her happily and scuttled back into its cradle. She folded her arms behind her head, tipped her chair back on two legs, and grinned as if she were Napoleon Bonaparte and she'd just conquered Waterloo.

"Well, ya certainly hit on all sixes* on that one, din'tcha?" Benny chuckled.

"It's okay, you don't need to applaud me just yet," Romy said a with a cheeky little grin. "Save your energy for cheering me later."

"Dat so, ya schemin' little grifter?" Baby Herman leered and jabbed his cigar in her direction, his cocksure blue eyes bold and daring. "Let's see ya put yer money where yer mouth is. Cards up, boys."

Roger shook his head, ears flopping, and threw down his hand; an eight of diamonds, to go with the one already on the table, and a two of hearts. "I gotta p-p-p-pair."

"Ohhh, too bad, _amigo_," Jose said with mock-sympathy before he smirked and revealed his own two kings. "But I do believe three of a kind beats you, bunny. So sorry. Maybe next time, eh?"

"Not so fast, there, hotshot," Benny grinned, revealing his nine of diamonds and a seven of hearts. Herman whistled.

"A straight. Not bad, flivver*, not bad. Well, Romy? Ladies first," Herman said, raising a brow.

"Oh, no, I insist," Romy insisted generously. "Children before ladies."

"Well, in dat case, sweetheart, ya still get ta go first," Herman jeered.

"But I'm bigger than you," Romy pointed out, still refusing to show her hand.

"What's dat got ta do wit' anything?" the toon demanded, waving his arm impatiently. "Quit hedgin' and show us the damn cards!"

"Language, Hermy, language," Romy said, shaking her head and managing not to laugh, though her eyes were dancing. "There's kids in the room."

"I'm sorry, _kids_?" Herman repeated sarcastically. "Dere's only one kid here, an' dat's _you_!"

"Well, I'm certainly not acting like one, Mister Full House," Romy said, with smug satisfaction. Herman blinked and gaped at her for a moment, before staring in mystification down at the cards in his hand.

"How did you...?"

"S'not my fault you were waving your cards around for everyone to see," Romy shrugged, resting her chin in a her hand with a sly smile. Herman gawked at her for a moment longer, his mouth working like a beached fish, but he couldn't seem to find anything to say. The others were too busy laughing to come up with anything, either. Finally, Herman snorted and slapped his knee.

"You little scoundrel, you did that on purpose!" he crowed. "Alright, ya chiseler, ya had yer fun. Now show us yer hand--it can't be all _that_ bad."

He still thought he might win. Or at least he did, until Romy gave him a coy little smile and cocked her head to the side. With lackadaisical daintiness, she neatly arranged the ten, jack, and king of spades in a line on the table--and then slapped down her own cards with insurmountable aplomb and showily spread her hands, grinning wickedly as she looked up at them over the top of her gold-framed glasses. The toons could only stare with their mouths agape, stunned beyond words, at the One-Eyed Queen and her Ace of Spades.

A Royal Flush.

"I do believe that, gentlemen, takes the cake," Romy drawled, with a jaunty flick to her black-wool Greek fisherman's* cap.

"Ohhhh!!!"

"Golly, I've never seen a royal flush before," Roger said in awe.

"_Ai caramba..._!" Jose exclaimed, slapping his forehead in astonishment.

"How the heck did you get all the luck?" Benny demanded.

"Horsefeathers!" Herman cried. "Ya cheatin' little ankle-biter, there's no way in hell that's legit!"

"Cheat?" Romy repeated, looking for all the world like a bewildered innocent accused of a false crime, and pulling it off very well. "Me? Never." Herman snorted and crossed his arms, more determined to find out just how she'd managed it rather than actually mad at the girl.

"Besides, Herman, this _is_ Texas Hold 'Em," Jessica reminded the pugnacious baby. "A little hard to cheat when you've only got two cards to work with."

Herman regarded Romy dubiously, not quite convinced. Her expression was so angelically immaculate--but if she'd been a toon, he suspected there would have been a pair of horns nestled in her short brown curls. A ribbon of pride wrapped itself around his heart, and he smiled slowly.

"I taught'cha too well, didn't I?"

"That you did," Romy replied with an affirmative nod, and reached round her chair to snag her backpack. "And with that, I'll be off. Mom'll start worrying if it gets too dark."

"You need a ride, kiddo?" Benny asked.

"If you don't mind, Benny."

"Course not," the toon-cab snorted. "Anything for a kitten that can pull off a hand like that--either you got the luck of the saints, or you're a better cardshark that we thought you were."

"Thanks, Ben," Romy smiled, hugging Roger goodbye. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Have a good night, Romy!" Roger replied with a dopey smile.

"Benny, make sure you drive safe," Jessica said, sweeping Romy up into a hug of her own. "Good night, sweetie."

"Don't I always?" Benny asked, and quickly added "Don't answer that" when he got five identical looks of have-you-_seen_-the-way-you-drive?

"Remember, _chica_, you promised me empanadas," Jose said.

"Don't worry, I'll bring 'em tomorrow," Romy assured him. "Bye Herman, it was a pleasure, as always."

"Yeah, next time I'm gonna wipe the floor with you, see if I don't," Herman threatened, and blew a few smoke rings in her direction from his high-seat. Romy just laughed and followed Benny as he trundled out the door.

All in all, it had been a very good day.

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

**Ishkabibble**

Hit on all sixes: An old Jazz Age 1930's slang phrase, which means to perform at 100%. Like "hitting on all six cylinders", or perhaps a more common variation for the current four-cylinder engines would be to "hit on all fours".

Flivver: A Model T, but after 1928 could mean any old broken down car.

Greek fisherman's cap: Just what it says. I love these hats; they're a little like an old English cap, only more done up. They usually come in black wool, like the one Romy wears, but they can be made out of cotton or denim as well. Google them, they're really neat.

**Disclaimer: Except for Romy, I do not own any of the characters seen in Who Framed Roger Rabbit**


End file.
